The Lion and The Wolf
by Aurorajaye
Summary: Tyrion and Sansa meet again at Winterfell. Enough of you have demanded more that it's no longer a one-shot!
1. Chapter 1

Daenerys Targaryen arrived in the North with Unsullied, Khalasars and three dragons in tow. The Starks had braced themselves, expecting her to challenge them to battle. Littlefinger's face was clouded with schemes, but he'd not shared them yet. Instead, the Khaleesi requested a meeting and left her throngs in the lands outside Winterfell—just far enough away not to be too threatening, though one cannot be completely unthreatening with three dragons circling overhead.

John and Sansa stood waiting in the courtyard. Daenerys entered with a rather short man by her side. Sansa gasped and tensed a bit at the sight of him.

"Lady Stark," Tyrion Lannister exclaimed in his velvety voice, "It's good to see you well. And Jon _Stark,_ King of the North? You've done quite well, yourself!"

The moment Tyrion called her "Stark," Jon could feel his younger sister relax at his side. Jon nodded to Tyrion before locking eyes with the pale beauty walking toward him. Long, silver-blonde waves tumbled down her back. She wore a long, dress-like leather jacket over trousers. She wore no crown, but there was no mistaking her for anything less that a ruler.

Tyrion could feel the impatience radiating from his queen. "May I present Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons. Majesty, this is John Stark, King of the North."

She presented one slender, graceful hand and Jon took it, raised it to his mouth and kissed it with his full lips. She blushed a bit, and Daenerys could not remember when she last blushed. Jon released her hand, wondering if he'd done the wrong thing, cleared his throat, and for a moment, his head fell forward awkwardly. He was about to scratch this curly head the way he always had when stressed, but Sansa subtly cleared her throat, a signal that he wasn't carrying himself like a king. He hadn't been raised to be a gentleman, let alone a king, so Sansa had had her work cut out for her training his to behave like a king. He straightened to his full height.

"I apologize, Highness, for breaking protocol," Tyrion continued. "You see, Lady Stark was nearly my wife."

"Nearly?" The queen asked in an imperious tone, raising one silvery eyebrow.

"We were wed in a church, but it was never consummated," her Hand replied, "And besides, a marriage forced by a madman doesn't count."

"Doesn't it?" Sansa asked. "I'm not sure the law agrees with you."

"Well, if you wish to be my wife, it is so," Tyrion said, bowing and kissing her hand with a wink. "And if you do not…well if only we knew someone with the kind of power to _make_ the law agree with me! Are you in need of a husband?"

Sansa laughed. She had heard "the imp" could be quite amusing, and in Kings Landing he'd been very kind, but neither of them had been much in the mood for joking at the time. Jon was surprised by his sister's reaction, for he hadn't heard Sansa laugh like that since they were children.

"Not just now," Sansa admitted. "I'm quite enjoying being a Stark of Winterfell again."

"Being a wolf quite suits you," Tyrion agreed. "So, King of the North, do you free your sister from her troth?"

Jon blinked at the man who'd managed in a few minutes to say more words that Jon did in a day.

Jon cleared his throat. "It is so."

Tyrion could feel his Queen's impatience. "Ah, good. With that out of the way…"

"You must be tired from your trip," Sansa said. "I've had rooms prepared for you where you can freshen up before dinner."

As they walked toward the Great House, Tyrion looked up and up at his former bride. "It is a good thing you were not this tall when we wed. Even _with_ the stool, I doubt I could have gotten the cape over your shoulders."

Sansa laughed. "You know," she replied with a smirk, "One really oughtn't comment on another's height. It's quite rude."

Tyrion laughed a deep bark of laughter. "Oh, Lady Stark, already I regret letting you out of our vows."

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

"You know, you could do a lot worse than a dwarf for a husband," he teased Sansa over goblets of wine after dinner in the Great Hall.

"I _have_ done a lot worse than a dwarf for a husband."

He could see from her face that this was not a jest. "Ahem. Yes. Well, I'm sure you'll do a lot better, too."

Sansa tilted her head and looked at him seriously. "I'm not sure that's true. I've met many men since my father died, but besides my brother, I can't think of one kinder than you."

"Lady Sansa, you'll damage my reputation! I am known across Westeros as a lecherous ghoul. And what of Petyr Baelish? He seems quite devoted to you."

Littlefinger was, in fact, currently staring at them from near the end of the head table with a look that might have seemed benign to others but that chilled Sansa to her core. Baelish was devoted to achieving his vision: a vision that included her. That was not the same as being devoted her _her_ , Sansa thought, and it certainly wasn't the same as kindness.

Sansa leaned closer to Tyrion. "Let Westeros believe what it will. You had no ulterior motive to be kind to me. You chose to. That is what I know." She took his small hand in hers and looked deep into his eyes. It was not the look of a girl seeking a friend or ally.

 _What in the names of the Gods old and new was happening?_ Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was that the winter had finally come. All Tyrion knew was that his world was upside down. He was the Hand of a queen he believed in. A base-born boy had risen to be King of the North. The shy bride who had once recoiled at the sight of him was declaring him a kind man and _flirting_ with him.

But there were Dragons again in Westeros, so he supposed anything could happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: No longer a one-shot! WHAAAAAAT? I'll be adding to this a bit so that it better lays the stage for the Gendry/Arya story I'm writing, "The Girl on the Bridge."**

ONE DAY EARLIER

"My sister holds King's Landing and all of the Royal Lands; Storm's End and the rest of the Baratheon territory; and Casterly Rock, with some cousin barely out of nappies serving as Lord of the holdfast. Our only hope there is if the locals learn that the mines are drying up, and that soon the Lannister coffers will be empty. Dorne and The Reach haven't declared war officially, but I expect them to band together anytime now to seek vengeance. Once the Tyrell women are in league with the Sand Snakes, Gods save us. As for the Tully land, Edmure is back in place officially, but he's a puppet. My siblings have his baby, so he does as he's told. Further north in the Tully land, in the holdfast at The Twins, Walder Frey and his eldest sons were slaughtered a while back under mysterious circumstances."

"Mysterious?" Daenerys asked.

"Quite. Do you know the story of The Rat Cook?" Tyrion asked, gesturing with a glass of wine.

"Tell it."

Tyrion told the sordid tale of a king who visited the Nightfort. While there, his son offended the cook, who killed him and served him the to the king in a pie so delicious that the king had a second helping. The Gods were greatly offended and turned him into a rat who was forever starving and could only live by devouring his own offspring.

"But it is the moral that is most surprising. The Gods punished The Rat Cook not for assassinating a prince or forcing a man to eat his own son. No, the TRULY unforgivable sin had been to break the most sacred laws of hospitality and protection. Once a traveler partakes of your bread and salt, he is safe from any harm.

"When the Freys murdered the Starks—when they did so proudly—they lost many supporters and allies. Then, one day, Walder Frey was found at his dining table with his throat slit. In front of him was a pie containing what looked very much like a human eyeball. His oldest sons' bodies were found, flayed, gutted and filleted in the kitchen larder. It must have taken some time and effort to do all that, yet no one in the entire hold saw a thing. Everyone just blamed in on the Rat Cook."

"What does that have to do with our plans?"

"We take The Twins, then River Run. Littlefinger is planning something, but for now he's allied The Eyre with Jon Stark in The North. To maintain that connection, we'll need the Tully land. If we get the Tully holdings, Cersei will be cut off from any resources left in Casterly Rock."

"Why should I maintain anything for Jon Stark? Why allow him to call himself King?"

"From what I hear, he didn't name himself king. His followers named him king, and they're Northerners; they are not the type to follow. You are Queen of the Andals and the First Men, yet the Andals and the First Men did not conquer The North. King Torrhen Stark gathered his troops, but after seeing the devastation Aegon the Conqueror had wreaked upon southern Westeros, he bent the knees in exchange for the safety of the North. For this, his people were saved from another Field of Fire and he was allowed to Rule, though as Lord Paramount of the North. Three hundred years later, the Northerners haven't forgiven the man who saved them from death by dragon fire. They still call Torrhen 'the king who knelt.' If they want Jon Stark as their king, let them have him. Your ancestors were bright enough to leave the North be. My siblings were not, and it may yet be their downfall."

"You would have me give up on more than half of my kingdom?"

"No…" Tyrion said, looking at her closely. "I am suggesting perhaps you should be his Queen in the South, and he should be your King in the North."


	3. Chapter 3

**AFTER THE FIRST MEETING**

 **Upon crossing the threshold to Winterfell, Sansa and Jon had presented Daenerys and Tyrion with bread and salt to welcome them. Sansa had offered them rooms and baths before inviting them to dinner. Jon checked in with his men, giving orders as need-be, then slipped out to the Godswood, hoping to find his direwolf.**

 **He found Ghost standing next to a woman with hair almost as white as his. Daenerys wasn't touching Ghost, but neither was she afraid. She wore a white gown now, red leaves falling around her to rest on the silver-white snow. Jon didn't know if he'd ever seen anything so beautiful.**

 **"** **This is a heart tree?" she asked, gesturing to the tree and its watchful face.**

 **"** **Aye. A weirwood,"** he added. "They say the Old Gods watch over us through the heart tree of every Godswood."

"And do you know this creature?"

"His name is Ghost. He's a direwolf: giant, ancient wolves from the north."

"Isn't this The North?"

"Farther north. Direwolves mostly only exist north of The Wall, like mammoths and…" he fell silent.

"…And?"

"Giants, but I believe we've lost the last of them," he said, sadly. "Do you know what I mean by mammoths and giants? Do they tell stories of them across the sea?"

"I was raised on stories of Westeros, raised to return to my kingdom. Now that I have, what would you ask of me, John Stark?"

"Ask of you?"

"When I meet rulers, some tell me they will fight me and conquer me. Some surrender. Yara Greyjoy offered me 100 ships with men to sail them in exchange for us supporting her claim to the throne of the Iron Isles. Her brother asked for the Isles, quite politely. And some offer marriage. What do you request? What do you offer?"

"I cannot give you The North. They declared me their king; I belong to them. They do not belong to me. I do not wish to fight you; mankind fighting mankind is madness. Winter has come and the White Walkers are coming. We must all fight together, life versus death, if we are to survive."

Daenerys raised her eyebrows in surprise. Tyrion had told her that the Starks were a serious, earnest and honorable lot, and that Ned Stark had perhaps been the most honorable man he'd ever known. Tyrion said Jon seemed a lot like his father, though gloomier. The description seemed quite apt to Daenerys. Then the direwolf licked his face.

"Ugh, boy," the King of the North exclaimed, laughing and shoving the pony-sized wolf. He swiped the moisture from his face and laughed, "Get off!" He rustled the wolf's fur, and the wolf rubbed his head against Jon's shoulder, then trotted away.

Daenerys liked this man. She had vowed to make a better place, and she believed he would help her do so. He was strong, handsome and kind. She thought a moment, made a decision and nodded.

"Please, come," Daenerys asked, taking his arm. They walked to a clearing. "RHEAGAL!" she called. She felt Rheagal's temperament best suited to Jon's. Soon, she could hear the beat of his wings. Then the metallic-green dragon was circling overhead and managed to land in the clearing. She was beatific, gazing in to the creature's eyes. The creature whipped its head around suddenly to examine Jon. Jon did not move. Daenyrs gave a sharp warning to the creature, which sniffed Jon, and then nudged his shoulder, just as Ghost had done, but with enough strength that Jon stumbled. Jon found, without thinking about it, that he was stroking the dragon. The scales themselves were cool, but heat seeped from beneath and between them. The scales looked rough, but felt as smooth as polished opals. Jon was not scared of the dragon, nor did he lust to possess it. He admired the dragon, and Rheagal seemed to admire him.

"Rheagal, fly!" Daenerys proclaimed, and he flew away on leathery wings. She returned her attention to the king at her side. "My advisor, Tyrion, thinks I should marry you. I agree. You would be King in the North and I would be Queen in the South. The North would one of my Seven Kingdoms, and you would rule it as King, as would your heirs. I'm told I will not have children until the seas run dry, the mountains blow in the wind, and the sun rises in the West and sets in the East, but you could father heirs from any woman or women of your choosing. I believe my dragons will choose my successor. Do you accept my proposal?"

A mocking voice called out from Jon's memory: "You know nothing, Jon Snow!"


	4. Chapter 4

**The next day, Tyrion's former wife invited him on a tour of the glass garden. He had seen it years ago on his prior visit, and he was glad to see that it had survived all the tumult with its precious food still growing.**

 **"** **It seems that my Queen has taken my advice and asked your brother to marry her," Tyrion said. "She told him he could stay in the North and serve as King while she rules as Queen in the South. The North would mostly retain independence, but would swear loyalty to Queen Daenerys. Jon would be free to create heirs with whomever he sees fit, as Daenerys does not believe she is capable, and…"**

 **"** **Oh, no. She didn't! She asked Jon to marry her, but create heirs…"**

 **Tyrion groaned in frustration at himself. "She did. She told King Stark, formerly Jon Snow, that he would have bastards as his heirs."**

 **"** **Jon never even sports with doxies. When we were younger, Theon Greyjoy would tease him about it, and Jon would just mutter, 'No child of mine will ever be a bastard.'"**

 **"** **I'll talk to her about it. At least he didn't say no. He asked for time to consider it and discuss with his advisors."**

 **"** **How is she taking it?" Sansa asked.**

 **"** **The Mother of Dragons isn't known for her patience. But she said she wanted a man motivated by the greater good, not his own ambition. That kind of man does not take the choices he makes on behalf of his people lightly. And you, Sansa?"**

 **"** **I do not take my choices lightly, either."**

 **"** **I never imagined you would. Who's in the running? The sickly Arryn boy? Willas Tyrell, perhaps? There must be some highborn lad with deep pockets and a hatred of Queen Cersei who would love to marry a beauty like you."**

 **"** **Lady Olenna was going to arrange a marriage between Willas and me, back before you and I were married. Lord Baelish would prefer if I married Lord Arryn." She looked at Tyrion's face and, for some unfathomable reason, decided to trust him. "Just between us, if I married Robyn Arryn, I fear that Lord Arryn might not be long for this world."**

 **"** **Ah. Just long enough for an heir…that might not look like him. Littlefinger…"**

 **"** **Petyr..** ** _Lord Baelish_** **saved my life, and saved my brother. Without him, I wouldn't have escaped King's Landing. Without his troops, we wouldn't have defeated Ramsey's men and retaken Winterfell."**

 **"** **Rumor has it, without Petyr Baelish, you would never have ended in the clutches of R—"**

 **"** **Stop!" she snapped, then dropped her voice. "Lord Baelish says I'm the true Stark, not Jon, and that I should be Queen of the North. He…He sees himself on the Iron Throne, and me as his Queen."**

 **"** **Is that what you want?"**

 **"I was raised for it. I know every liege lord, every holdfast, every title and alliance in the North, and a great many in the rest of Westeros and beyond. I know how to run a household and organize supplies. I'm beginning to understand the machinations behind people's actions.**

 **"** **Sometimes, when I think of Cersei sitting on the Iron Throne, I want to rip her apart with my bare hands. She's the reason they're dead: Lady, Father, Mother, Robb, his wife and their baby! Joffrey was a monster, but she made him that way. She even killed Margaery and Loras, who were so kind to me. My father taught me that it is our job as Wardens of the North to ensure that our people are safe. She rules Westeros with no thought of her people and their well-being! To get what she wanted, she blew up the Great Sept." Her voice turned steely. "To get what she wants, she would burn all of Kings Landing to the ground. Petyr could find a way to kill her. He would do anything. He's already done more than you can imagine." Her voice broke. "I see what power does to people. How it corrupts. I could become like her so easily. Petyr says I'm good at it."**

 **"** **We all have it in us, if pushed too far, to lash out and behave cruelly," Tyrion said, taking her long, white fingers in his small-but-strong grasp. "In the end, it is a question of what you will choose: is cruelty a reaction, or is it who you are? I believe you would be a good queen…and perhaps you shall be. Thank you, Lady Stark, for confiding in me. No doubt my sister must be removed from the Iron Throne, but we needn't rely on Baelish. Queen Daenerys will be the one to do it."**

 **Sansa looked down at him, and the moonlight shone on the rugged features of his face. She smiled. "Margaery Tyrell was right about you."**

 **"** **What did she say?"**

 **"That you're rather good-looking, even with the scar…** ** _especially_** **with the scar."**

 **Tyrion laughed out loud, and Sansa found herself laughing, too, but exclaimed, "It wasn't a joke!"**

 **"** **That's why I'm laughing."**


	5. Chapter 5

Tyrion and Sansa leaned on a balustrade, looking down from the postern gate to the meadow behind Winterfell. Jon and Daenerys had gone for a walk, and her dragons had circled above them. Tyrion had been telling Sansa about the creatures: the name and personality of each; and the only time he'd gotten close, when he had freed two from captivity. He also confessed how he'd longed to own a dragon as a boy.

"And are they as you'd dreamed?" Sansa asked.

"They are, in every way, more. But now I understand that I could never _own_ a dragon. That's why they shrank and died out, I think. The Targaryens inbred to contain their power, and kept their dragons captive to contain their power. They forgot to serve their people, and to respect the dragons who brought them to power in the first place."

The dragons swooped down to the ground and landed, creating lovely sprays of snow. Daenerys beamed as she greeted her dragons, leaning into the large, comforting body of each—gazing into their serpentine eyes. Sansa gasped when the green one whipped its head toward Jon. She grasped Tyrion's arm so hard that her knuckles turned white. Tyrion murmured, "Some maesters believe dragons to be smarter than humans," but then held his breath until Jon raised his hands and Rheagal eyed him, then nuzzled the man. The bravest folks of Winterfell and Winter Town had come to see the creatures at a respectful distance. They cried out in surprise at the interaction between a dragon and their king.

Sansa noticed some of girls of Wintertown were arm-in-arm with local boys. Far too many of the locals had been lost in the war or in the subsequent sieges and Ramsey's depravity, but those who survived were recovering. It seemed like almost every day, there was a wedding in the Godswood or her mother's little Sept. Sansa sighed. "Do you ever wish you were common-born?"

Tyrion cleared raised an eyebrow. "It's a rough lot for commoners of my stature."

"I hadn't thought…" she stammered. "Sorry, it's just that…sometimes, a common girl and a common boy…."

"Ah, yes. No worry about titles or deep pockets. Just a small dowry and…"

"Love. Sometimes, they can marry for love. Or sometimes I wish I were stupid, like I was before I was to marry Joffrey. Jon would just tell me who I was to marry, and I would do my duty, and my only worry would be whether he were handsome. But no. Now I must think of power and my people."

"The lack of freedom is why the gentry must be compensated with lemon cakes and pretty dresses."

Sansa laughed. "I wish it made sense to marry you; you were a good husband."

"But I have no wealth, no lands …"

"And your place is with the Queen."

"And yours is in the North," Tyrion said with a sigh. "We will find you a husband: perhaps someone kindly and very rich, but very old. And then, when you are a rich and powerful widow, I'll be your last husband. First and last provides a nice symmetry, doesn't it?"

Sansa laughed and nodded. "It does!"

Sansa was surprised how sad she felt later that day as she and Jon sent Queen Daenerys and her retinue on their way south to explore and conquer Westeros. When Tyrion had been by her side, it was as though Sansa been able to release a weight she hadn't known she carried. Now that he was leaving, the weight again settled over her. She placed her hand into her pocket as was surprised to find a slip of paper there. She opened it and read, "S, If you have need of my help or just wish to exchange words, send a raven. Watch after your monarch and I'll look after mine. We will find a way through all of this. After all, there are dragons in Westeros, and you called me good-looking. Truly anything is possible. –T."

She laughed, drawing the sharp, cold eyes of Petyr Baelish. All during the visit of Daenerys and Tyrion, he'd been obsequious to the guests, but Sansa had recognized the calculating look in his eyes. Daenerys was the greatest possible threat to Petyr's vision of himself on the throne. Moreover, Sansa had felt his cold disapproval of the time she spent with Tyrion. He had pulled her aside to say as much in hissed tones. She had assured him that she was just ingratiating herself to "the imp" to gain his favor, information and access to the Queen. He wanted to believe her, Sansa thought, but her lies were revealed by each spontaneous, genuine laugh that Tyrion had managed to coax from her since his arrival. She would have to destroy the note before Petyr could read it. She would have to come up with a cover story for the questions sure to follow.

Winter was upon them. Ahead were wars and nights dark and full of terrors. All the same, Sansa took comfort in the Tyrion's words and the knowledge that she could write him, too. The visitors were receding into the distance, but she saw Tyrion look back and wave. She waved back to her first—and perhaps last—husband.

 **The End**

 **Author's note: continued in my Arya/Gendry story The Girl on the Bridge. Thanks for reading and to everyone who followed, favorited or commented! I really appreciate the feedback!**


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